


The Perfect Accessory

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bow ties are hard. A scene of Blaine’s pre-prom prep.</p><p>set during 5x02 (“Tina in the Sky with Diamonds”), with no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Accessory

Blaine frowns at his reflection in his bedroom mirror and adjusts his bow tie. It’s the perfect one, an excellent texture when matched with the simplicity of his tuxedo - and he’d thought so even before Kurt had weighed in with his opinion over Skype last night - but it doesn’t look quite right. He tugs on it a bit, wiggling it to straighten it and molding the tabs with his thumbs to get them to lie flatter. He lets his hands drop and inspects his work. It’s good. The fabric still looks crisp and freshly pressed but closer to the perfect tie shape, symmetrical and tidy.

Blaine tilts his head and frowns again, squinting a little. He doesn’t want to overwork it, but is it lopsided? Or is that just his perspective?

He straightens his shoulders, closes his eyes for a few seconds, and opens them again to catch a fresh sight of himself. He hums in indecision. Maybe a _little_ lopsided.

“Dude, this is why I told you to get a clip-on,” Sam says from where he’s sprawled in the chair beside Blaine’s bed, heedless of his own tuxedo. He flips a page in the book he has in his lap, one he grabbed earlier from Blaine’s shelf. “And seriously, this comic is fucked up. What’s with all of the Shakespeare?”

“It’s a graphic novel, not a comic book,” Blaine says, because they had the debate between real bow ties and clip-ons at the tuxedo rental store a week ago, and he knows neither of them is going to be swayed. “And it might be easier for you to follow the story if you start from the beginning of the series instead of on book six.”

“Or we could leave your room, pick up Artie and Kitty, and go to prom,” Sam says without any bite. They aren’t late, after all, and he flips to the next page without glancing up.

Blaine looks at himself in the mirror again. It’s not like he has a date to impress - since Kurt’s back in New York and won’t be there to cheer for him if he’s named Prom King, won’t be there to dance with him under the sparkling lights, won’t be there looking handsome and older than Blaine’s classmates, a vision of Blaine’s future now more than ever - but his tie really does look lopsided to him, and that’s important even without Kurt’s eagle eyes there to catch it. Blaine still wants everything to be perfect. He’s the head of the student government, and he might be Prom King, after all; so many eyes will be on him. He needs to live up to their votes. “I just need to fix this.”

A knock on his door forestalls his hands attacking his tie, and his mother enters without waiting for a response.

“You both look very nice,” she says, looking them both over.

“Thank you,” Blaine says and tugs at his jacket. Maybe that’s why his tie looks off. Maybe it’s the jacket.

“Blaine’s being way too anal about his tie,” Sam says to Blaine’s mortification, because honestly if he used that kind of language in front of his mother...

She doesn’t bristle, though, or fix Sam with a disapproving look. “He always has been,” his mother replies with a fond smile and holds out a small, white cardboard box to Blaine. “The florist just delivered this for you, honey.”

“I thought Artie picked up all our orders for our lapel flowers and stuff,” Sam says as Blaine’s mother leaves them alone. He gets up and walks over, curious.

“He did,” Blaine says slowly, looking down at the box. It’s so light in his hands, but it’s making his heart pound. He has a guess. He has a _hope_ , the whisper of a dream that’s actually his life again. “He texted me.”

“Maybe they forgot yours?”

“Maybe,” Blaine says, though Artie had been sure he had everything. He uses the edge of his thumb to lift the gold foil sticker sealing the box, and he carefully tacks it back down against the cardboard before he raises the lid.

Inside is a perfect, pale pink carnation in a simple silver boutonniere holder, all of it so very familiar, and his breath shivers out of him at the sight.

There’s a card nestled into the tissue next to it, one of those little floral inserts, and in handwriting that doesn’t come from the owner of the words is written: “If I were there, I’d kiss you after I pinned it to your lapel. Have a wonderful night.”

Sam peers over his shoulder as Blaine swallows hard and beams down at the card, and he claps Blaine on the back and says, “Kurt?”

Blaine nods, tucking the card in the corner of his dresser mirror for safekeeping and carefully lifting out the boutonniere, almost identical to the one he wore to his first prom with Kurt, the one that had gone so horribly wrong and yet had still been a magical night for them, one where their love triumphed over everything, including hate.

Their love is always going to triumph over everything.

Blaine smiles at the flower in his palm for a second and then unclasps the pin on the holder and carefully threads it onto his jacket. Kurt would do a better job, because his hands wouldn’t be shaking like Blaine’s are and because the angle would be easier, but Blaine still feels a weight off his chest just seeing the boutonniere there on it. _Kurt’s_ boutonniere. He might not be physically with Blaine tonight, but now he is in spirit.

And, Blaine thinks, taking a happy step back from the mirror, Kurt is thinking of him. Kurt went out of his way to do something special for him.

It feels like Blaine’s back in the bright sunlight after being held in the shadows for so long to be given yet another bit of unquestionable proof that Kurt’s really doing this with him. They really are together, even though they’re in different states. They really are in love. They really are going to get married.

He already knew it, he already believed it, but it’s still _true_.

“You okay?” Sam asks him. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“No.” Blaine shakes his head as yet another smile takes over his face. He might be blinking a little extra to clear his eyes, and his chest might feel tight, but he’s not going to cry. He’s just touched. He’s happy. “I should text him to thank him.” He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jacket.

“You should call him.” Sam flops down in the chair and picks up the book.

Oh, god, just the thought of hearing Kurt’s voice right now sounds incredible to Blaine. “But we need to get Artie and - “

Pushing his hand through his hair, Sam just opens up the graphic novel and goes back to reading. “We have time. Go call him. Love stuff’s important.”

“Okay. I’ll, um - I’ll be right back.” Blaine flees the room, because he really can’t imagine having this conversation in front of anyone, even Sam, and he ends up down the hall in his mother’s so-called sewing room, though he’s never seen her do anything in there but wrap presents, with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Well, hello, McKinley High’s future Prom King,” Kurt answers, the easy warmth and undertone of flirtation in his voice making Blaine’s throat close up. He’s not quite used to it yet, Kurt being his again.

“Kurt,” Blaine says breathlessly, clutching at the phone. “I got your boutonniere. _Thank_ you.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s a high-pitched laugh somewhere in the background behind Kurt, probably Rachel, and then the sound of a door closing. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you’d already picked out one of your own, but...”

“I love it,” Blaine promises. “Kurt - “ He shakes his head, because he’s so grateful and so in love, and he doesn’t know how to express it. He could sing, only he’s not sure they have time for that.

“I’m sorry I’m not there tonight,” Kurt tells him softly.

Blaine smiles up at the ceiling and tries to make his voice sound normal. “I thought you were over McKinley proms.”

“Oh, I am,” Kurt replies with a dry laugh. “Completely and totally over them, from the terrible fashion to the awful refreshments to the smell of gym socks and bullying they can never quite get out of the air.” His next laugh is softer, more intimate. “But I’m not over _you_. I’m sorry I can’t be there with _you_.”

Blaine imagines for a minute - not for the first time - getting to walk into his Senior Prom with Kurt on his arm, getting to slow dance with him with his own, earned crown on his head, getting to take pictures with their friends and be memorialized in the yearbook and maybe even getting a hotel room afterwards and having the time to re-learn each other not in the fumbling way so many high school kids do but to reconnect with love and respect and so much history to rewrite on their skin. It would be amazing, a wonderful cap to this mixed bag of a year, a wonderful way to remember what he’s accomplished, how he’s ending things at McKinley, and where his life is going.

“It’s okay,” he says, though, because as much as he wants that, he doesn’t need it. Not really. He has his other friends to celebrate with, and he has Kurt, too, just not tonight. “It would be amazing if you were here, but it’s okay.” He touches the flower on his lapel. “I’ll still have you with me.”

“You always do,” Kurt tells him, gentle and honest, and Blaine feels his throat close up once more. Kurt takes a deep breath, like he’s steadying himself, too. “And I want to see all the pictures,” he says more brightly. “Even the embarrassing ones.”

“ _Especially_ the embarrassing ones, right?” Blaine teases back.

“You never know when blackmail material will come in useful,” Kurt agrees, like it’s a serious life lesson, but Blaine knows exactly how his eyes are shining and the corners of his mouth are crinkling in a grin he is trying not to voice.

It makes him smile up at the ceiling again, because he knows Kurt that well. He still does. He always will.

“Sometimes I worry about how much you know about things like that,” Blaine says.

“Well, I _do_ intern at Vogue. We live off of blackmail and couture there; god knows most of them don’t live off of actual food.”

Blaine laughs and is about to bring up the tragedy of missing out on cheesecake when he hears Sam cough in the other room and startles back into the present. Oh. Right. He’s not smiling right into Kurt’s eyes but on the phone, far away from him, and he has to go pick up Artie and go to prom without Kurt.

He thinks it’s good, probably, that he’s forgetting the distance so easily. It’s so much better than last time. This time he knows exactly how everything between them will end, which is never.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to have to go, but it’s time for us to leave,” he tells Kurt.

“Have a great time,” Kurt replies, nothing in his voice to make feel Blaine feel bad about it. “I hope the refreshments are surprisingly delicious and the crown fits you perfectly.”

Blaine ducks his head and _hopes_ , because he really wants to win. He really wants people to want him that much. “Thank you,” he says.

“And whatever happens, Blaine,” Kurt says, more serious, “whether you win tonight or not, you’ll always be _my_ Prom King.”

The words ring in Blaine’s head for a moment. He doesn’t know if Kurt’s remembering that moment two years ago when Blaine found him in the middle of the dance floor or if he’s just being sentimental and possessive, but either way, it makes Blaine feel warm inside, wanted, connected, and protective of the amazing bond they share.

“I’m always yours,” he tells Kurt softly, running his fingers down the smooth metal of the boutonniere holder, an echo of the metal ring sitting on Kurt’s finger even now.

“I know. Now go enjoy your night, and Skype me later. I’ll be up. Maybe I’ll even dress for the occasion. Any excuse for formalwear.”

“Okay,” Blaine replies with a laugh and a fond shake of his head, because he really doesn’t know if Kurt is joking or not, and he loves that about him, that wonderful sense of surprise. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt replies and lingers for the span of a breath before he cuts the call.

Blaine smiles to himself for another second, then tucks his phone away and turns back for his room and Sam and the exciting night ahead. There’s an extra bounce in his step as he hurries down the hallway.

It’s _prom_. His tie doesn't matter; it's going to be a great night. He can’t wait to take pictures. He can’t wait to dance with all of his friends. He can’t wait to see who is crowned Prom King. He can’t wait for any of it.

And he gets to do it all with a piece of Kurt not just in his heart but pinned over it, there despite the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free! Please don't tell me ANYTHING about what's coming ahead in the show!


End file.
